


Say Yes to Heaven

by tsthrace



Series: Songs sent, ficlets written [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsthrace/pseuds/tsthrace
Summary: Lexa hasn't seen Clarke in awhile. They find each other on a rooftop with a view.





	Say Yes to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnyxApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxApples/gifts).

> This little one-shot is based on [Say Yes to Heaven](https://youtu.be/EMDJHkOUG6I) by Lana Del Rey, as requested by [@little-lionessa](https://little-lionessa.tumblr.com//).

They aren’t supposed to be up there, but everyone is anyhow. They always are. Slow drinking, low talking, playing guitar or sometimes a mandolin. So many people, but not really a party—a gathering, really. 

It’s a view that demands your attention. A bay with giant bridges that seem like miracles, a dark and jagged skyline cutting across the horizon. Sometimes fog crawls through the Golden Gate and across the Bay, creeping through the trees in the flats below. Sometimes the sun shatters into pieces on the water. Sometimes a hint of the ocean shimmers on the other side of everything.

It’s a view that demands you keep your voice down. 

Lexa takes a sip of expensive whiskey from a cheap red plastic cup. She stands at the edge of the rooftop, a narrow guardrail hemming her in. Her eyes move from the sunset breaking over the water to a group gathered around the guitar. Back and forth. Not like a pendulum—more like the tide. She feels the impulse to run her fingers through her hair—a nervous tic she had abolished long ago, but the impulse never completely disappeared. It shows up as a blip on the radar, just enough to get her attention, and disappears.

Her head turns again to the quiet crowd, people moving like reeds swaying in a soft wind. Every so often they part just enough for Lexa to catch a glance. Clarke is here. Finally. That vague smile—her listening smile—lighting up her whole face, then her head thrown back in a laugh. Lexa can’t help but smile herself. She loves when Clarke laughs.

She shakes her head, shooing the smile away, then looks back over the water. The sun is now just a dark pink halo over the city. A moment later, a gentle white light spills over the roof. Someone has plugged in the strings of tiny Christmas lights that hang in lines above them. 

Which is when Clarke looks towards the edge of the roof, sees Lexa holding her red cup. Lexa takes a breath and holds it. She sees Clarke bite her lip and look down.

_ Don’t go over there. _ The voice in Lexa’s head is stern. She takes another sip and turns her head again to the lights of the city across the Bay. _ Don’t even look. _

She feels a light touch on her shoulder. She already knows who it is and pauses to take a deep breath before she turns to face her.

“When did you get back?” Lexa’s voice is almost too even. 

A shade of guilt crosses Clarke’s face. “A week ago.” She glances just past Lexa. “The jet lag was rough. It took awhile to adjust.”

Lexa forces a smile. “I’m sure it did.” She turns her head back towards the water, her eyes tracing the constellations of faraway buildings.

Clarke gives up. “Lexa, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. You’re just doing your job.” 

Clarke leans against the rail. “You said it was fine.”

“It _ is _ fine, Clarke.” Her voice does not sound fine.

Clarke sighs. She didn’t have to take the job. She could have stayed at her practice in Berkeley. But she had always been drawn to disaster, so when disaster needed a doctor, she answered the call. Lexa had said it was fine.

Clarke looks down at Lexa’s hand resting on the railing. She knows better than to reach for it. _ Not yet. _ “You could come with me.” Clarke knows this is always the wrong thing to say.

Lexa shakes her head and looks down at her now empty cup. “I need to be here.” 

Clarke closes her eyes and nods. “I know.”

They stand side by side, the energy building between them like it always does. The gathering moves away from them. By instinct, the crowd gives them space.

They stand in the white glow of the lights. Side by side and silent. 

Lexa lets out a deep breath. “I just miss you.” She speaks more to the bridges than to Clarke. 

Clarke looks down at her hand again. _ Still too soon. _ “I miss you, too, Lexa.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“I know there’s a but.”

Clarke lets out a breath. “You know how important this is to me. They only took three researchers. In the entire world, Lexa.” She feels her words spilling out before she can catch them. “You should see the facilities. This place has never had something like—” 

Lexa pulls a delicate flask out from inside her jacket and pours more High West into her cup. Clarke had fallen in love with the way her slightest movement could arrest an entire room. She does not love it now.

“You’re still angry.”

“I’m not angry, Clarke.” Lexa swirls the whiskey around. Her jaw clenches. “Not at you, at least.”

Clarke’s eyes narrow.

Lexa finally raises her head, her eyes following the line of street lights along Hearst. After a moment, she takes in another deep breath and turns towards Clarke. “I just know…” She pauses. “I just know I’ll wait no matter what.”

Clarke shivers, a confusing wash of relief and heartbreak flowing over her. Of course she’d known that Lexa would go on with her life, just as she’d known that Lexa would always be hers. “You don’t have to.”

“Fuck you, Clarke.” The words are so gentle that one might have mistaken them for _ I love you._ But before Clarke even realizes what she said, Lexa’s lips are on hers. Clarke tastes the warm glow of rye and vanilla. She can tell by the way Lexa moves her tongue that she’s tipsy. Clarke smiles as she pulls back.

“Fuck you, too,” she says just as gently. 

Lexa’s smile is sad and small, but it’s a smile. “When do you leave again?”

“A week.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me.”

“If you’d have moved in—”

“—I’d be living alone in your apartment.” Lexa tilts her head up, her green eyes sharp and hurt.

Clarke looks down. She hates breaking Lexa’s heart. Which is why she hadn’t called. “I’m sorry.”

Lexa sighs and turns her eyes back to the sea of lights and the blackness of the Bay. Clarke swallows, her eyes following Lexa’s glance westward. She can almost make out the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

The roof has gone quiet except the guitar that floats over and settles around them. A woman’s lithe voice dances around it.

_ If you dance I'll dance _  
_ And if you don't I'll dance anyway _  
_ Give peace a chance _ _  
Let the fear you have fall away_

Clarke looks down at Lexa’s hand on the rail, and decides that, _ yes, now is the time. _ Lexa doesn’t seem to notice for a few moments when Clarke touches her—but then she turns, wraps her arms around her and pulls her in. She starts to sway with the chord changes, and Clarke follows, their feet tracking each other’s in almost imperceptible steps.

_ Say yes to heaven _ _  
_ _ Say yes to me _

Clarke feels Lexa’s chest move up and down with every breath. She wants to beg her to leave with her, to show her the faces of the people who come to the clinic, to help her see. _ No. _ She shakes her head. _ Maybe someday our worlds will align. _ She pulls Lexa closer. _ But not today. _

Lexa takes a deep breath, wishing she knew what to say. But there are no words. So she takes a deep breath, trying to memorize the feel of Clarke against her. 

_ I’ve got my mind on you _

They sway until the song goes quiet. Lexa rests her head on Clarke’s shoulder. “So we have a week then.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a song you'd like me to base a little one-shot like this on, send it my way! I promise you at least 1,000 words.  
Find me on [tumblr](https://tsthrace.tumblr.com/) or email me at tsthrace at gmail.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, drop me a kudo!  
If you have feelings, drop me a comment!  
I'm also always open to respectful concrit.


End file.
